


Nectar

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Erotica, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-02
Updated: 2008-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Verity is distracted by her bosses' best friend.





	Nectar

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Written for Checkmated's Scribbilicious drabble prompts on the forums. The Prompt was 'juicy'

It was his lips that drove her mad—always grinning, so full and lush and red against his straight white teeth. It seemed completely unfair that this man had lips any girl would kill for. But Verity, who’d often despaired of her small pink rosebud mouth, coveted his mouth for entirely different reasons. She watched him while she ate one of the strawberries he’d brought from the fruit stand down the Alley, feeling the soft, moist flesh of the fruit against her lips, sticky sweet juice dribbling down the corner of her mouth, wishing that it was his lips giving her so much sensory pleasure.

Then she thought of his tongue, which was a thing of beauty in itself, one that she spent breathless moments trying to catch a glimpse of whenever he visited. She could imagine it twining around hers, whispering over her skin, slithering sensually between her legs, lapping up her juices. Sometimes (on the occasional afternoons he spent brewing up gags for the twins) she would catch him biting his tongue in concentration and she would have to press her knees together tightly, leaning forward in her chair to keep from moaning aloud.

But it was his hands that really sold her, with their long, graceful fingers. She liked to imagine them roaming her body, cupping her arse, holding her steady as he drove into her. She wanted it so badly that she didn’t think she could stand it any more. So, when he finally offered to walk her home one night, she didn’t hesitate. They were hardly out the door of the tavern when she pulled him close.

And tasted.


End file.
